Shirou and Darnic Yggdmillennia / Shirou and the Red-Haired Lady

Kairi Shishigou, Shirou didn't react. He shook his head again.

"I really can't recall anyone who looks like that participating in the Sub-species Holy Grail War. Although Magecraft are all quite unique individuals, I could never forget that androgynous appearance if I had one." He spoke slowly. "Of course, I didn't participate in the Holy Grail War, so I don't know much about it."

Chapter 1242 Shirou and Darnic the Thousand Tree

"Mr. Lion Kagari, have you discovered anything else suspicious?" Shirou asked.

The man in sunglasses leaned back on the sofa and shook his head.

"I slept during the day and kept watch at night. No one seemed suspicious the first night, and last night, apart from what I've already mentioned, nothing else seemed suspicious. I left the door slightly ajar and kept an eye on things. No strangers walked by."

"Are you confident, Mr. Lion Kagari?"

"I'm absolutely certain. No outsiders have been here, and no one came from the next carriage. I swear."

Kairi Shishigou conviction, though no one would believe the oath of a necromancer who sleeps in graveyards and digs up people's graves.

However, he seemed very eager to salvage his professional reputation and was taking it very seriously.

"Can you see the train conductor from your room?" Shirou asked a different question.

"I can see him. By the light shining from my room, I can see him sitting in his seat, his face shimmering in the light," Kairi Shishigou said with a smile.

"Did he leave his seat when the car stopped in Romania?" Shirou asked.

"Was it the previous station? No, the bell rang twice, and he went both times. It's probably something that happened after the train station stopped here. Later, he passed by my door and went to the next carriage. It was around 1:15 when the bell rang. At that time, the bell kept ringing, and the train conductor even ran back like a madman."

I went to the aisle to see what had happened. The train had already stopped, and the sounds outside were blocked by the barrier, so the sounds inside the train were particularly clear. The bell was ringing so urgently. My friend, you should understand, the situation was quite frightening.

Later I found out it was that Chinese old man who was making a scene for some reason. That old man was so talkative, he made the train conductor sweat profusely. The scene was truly hilarious.

Later, he went to another compartment, and when he came out, he took a bottle of mineral water and gave it to someone. After that, he remained seated until someone at the other end of the carriage called him to make up his bed, at which point he left. I think he didn't leave until five in the morning."

"Which train conductor has never dozed off?"

"I can't say for sure, maybe it happened."

Shirou nodded and reached for the materials on the table. He picked up the business card again.

"Please sign here."

The other party complied with all of their requests.

"That's all, thank you for your help," Shirou said.

"I don't think anyone can verify what you've said, Mr. Lion Kagari?" Mr. Frederick said, looking directly at the man.

"Nobody's here, but maybe you could ask my employers, though I doubt they'd admit it." He nonchalantly swished a cigarette and strode out.

The three people looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Do you think what he said is reliable?" Waver asked.

"Yes, I know this type of person. If he's making up a lie, we'll expose him immediately."

"He provided very interesting evidence," Mr. Frederick said.

"Of course."

"A short man, with pale skin, handsome features, and a voice as high-pitched as a woman's," Mr. Frederick mused.

"None of the people he described matched the names on the bus."

Frederick paused for a moment, then said, "A neutral appearance, bloodless skin—this image is exactly like a vampire."

"In that case, the already tangled mess of clues has become even more confusing."

Shirou smiled and said, "This is really interesting."

"What's so funny! I'm going crazy," Mr. Frederick complained.

"It's like adding a puzzle on top of a puzzle."

The next passenger to be questioned was a red-haired Italian.

Antonio strode into the dining car. He was radiant, cheerful, fair-skinned, and exuded the confidence of a successful man.

He speaks beautiful and fluent English, though with a slight southern Italian accent.

"Your name is Antonio."

"Yes, sir."

"I assume you are a partner of the Mage's Association?"

He grinned.

"Yes, sir, it's more convenient for my business."

"Are you an agent for Middle Eastern Magecraft resources?"

"Yes, that's how it is."

Then he launched into a long, rambling self-introduction. But in the end, all the listeners could see about Antonio's business practices, his travels, his income, and his views on most of America and Europe was his ignorance and vulgarity.

At best, he was just an insignificant little agent.

But he possessed a confidence beyond his station; he was by no means the type to stutter. When he did speak, he was eloquent and fluent.

As soon as he stopped talking, he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief in the most fashionable and expressive gesture. At that moment, his fair and handsome face looked full of confidence and radiant.

"Why would someone like you take this train?"

"You see," he said, "I'm in big business. I'm a man of the times, I know how to make money. But I'm not a vulgar man either; as a Magecraft, naturally I have to ride the Mystic Train, right?"

"Yes, sir. Ah, I still vividly remember those times I traveled by car. Such a faraway place! My mother, my sister..."

Shirou interrupted his endless reminiscence.

"During your trip to the Middle East, did you encounter any of the victims?"

"No, but I know this kind of person. Yes, yes." He cracked his fingers expressively. "He seems quite respectable, dressed smartly, but behind the scenes he does all sorts of wicked things. In my experience, he's definitely a big liar. You must listen to my opinion."

"Your opinion is very good," Shirou said dryly. "Old John is Darnic, the founder of Thousand Tree."

"What did I tell you? You see, I've been to China, and I learned face reading there. I can tell right away at a glance. It's an essential skill for doing business..."

Do you know Lecturer Kenseth at the Clock Tower?

"Yes, I deeply sympathize with what happened to him, but if he could have assessed the situation like I did, that wouldn't have happened."

Shirou didn't let him finish speaking, otherwise it would have gone on and on. This was the first time Shirou had met someone who could rival the eloquence of the Old Boss Li from China. Everyone says Italians are good at talking, and it seems that this reputation is truly well-deserved.

Do you know anyone in the El-Melloi family?

"I don't know them, I don't think so. But the other Lord's families have cooperated with us before, we're quite familiar with them. I even attended one Lord's family banquet, back then..."

"Sir, please don't go off-topic," Shirou reminded him helplessly.

Chapter 1243 Shirou and the Red-haired Miss

The Italian waved his hand and made an apologetic gesture.

"Please forgive me, I really didn't mean it."

"If possible, please tell me exactly what you did after dinner last night."

"Of course I'd like to. I've been staying here; it's more fun here. I chat with a Japanese gentleman at my own dining table; he works in sales."

Then I went back to my room, which was empty; the poor British man who shared the room with me had gone to serve his master. Later, he returned, as usual, with a sullen face and a bellyful of displeasure. He kept his mouth shut and didn't utter a sound. What a pitiful man; he probably couldn't understand the joys of life.

He sat in the corner, reading with a serious expression. Later, the train conductor made up our beds.

"Shop number four and shop number five," Shirou muttered to himself.

"Yes, the last compartment, I was on the top bunk. I sat up and smoked for a while. The British man was reading, and after a while, I fell asleep. Later I woke up and found he was asleep too."

"Did he leave the private room last night?"

"I don't think so, um, I haven't left. Otherwise, I would have heard it. If you woke up and saw the lights in the corridor, you would have thought it was customs checking you."

"Did he ever mention his master? Did he show any resentment towards his master?"

"Didn't I tell you? He's never utters a word, he's not likeable at all, he's like a block of wood."

"By the way, do you smoke? Do you smoke rolled cigarettes, cigarettes, or cigars?"

"Smoke a cigarette."

Shirou offered him a cigarette, which he accepted.

"Have you ever been to London?" Mr. Frederick asked.

"Hmm, I've lived there before, it's a pretty good city. However, I'm also familiar with New York, Tokyo, and Paris. Have you been to these places? No? Let me tell you, it's definitely worth going. It would be best to live there for a few years; you can achieve even greater breakthroughs there..."

Shirou pushed a piece of paper towards him.

Please write down your name and address.

The Italian picked up his pen and began to write. After he finished, he stood up, his smile still as charming as ever.

"Is everything alright? No more questions? Goodbye, gentlemen. Hopefully we can get rid of this snow. I have an appointment in Milan." He shook his head painfully. "Otherwise, I'll miss this deal."

"The Snow Spirit won't last that long, and the case will be solved before then," Shirou said, standing up.

"I hope so. It's all up to you now, Detective."

"By the way, do you have a lighter?" Shirou asked, picking up a cigarette.

"We don't need that."

The Italian smiled, raised a finger, and released Mars that landed precisely on Shirou's cigarette, lighting it. He blinked.

"I told you I'm a capable elite."

Then he left.

The Italian seemed to be very skilled in fire Magecraft; even with a magic-suppressing field, he could still control the Magecraft precisely. Shirou opened a drawer, inside which were the two lighters found in the deceased's room.

Who could have been left behind?

"I find this Italian man very suspicious," Mr. Frederick said.

Shirou looked at his friend.

"He's been in America for a long time," Mr. Frederick said. "And he's Italian, Italians love knives! Besides, they're all big liars. I just don't like Italians."

"It seems," Shirou said with a smile, "That you may be right. However, sir, I must point out that we have no evidence against him. Your train conductor Hallester and the English valet can both testify on his behalf."

"What about psychological factors? Do Italians dislike surgery?"

"I mean, this case is full of mysteries and is definitely not as simple as it seems on the surface. The victim was stabbed 13 times; there must be a special meaning behind that."

"What special significance?" Mr. Frederick asked.

"I still have some questions about this. Anyway, let's meet that Red-haired Miss first."

Shirou picked up his pen and tapped the last two names in the notebook.

Red-haired Miss stepped into the train compartment that served as the trial courtroom. She was dressed neatly in a light black coat and a French-style gray shirt. Her smooth, shoulder-length red hair was combed perfectly, with not a single strand out of place.

She was calm and composed, just like her hair, and handled things methodically.

She sat down opposite Shirou and Mr. Frederick, casting an inquiring glance.

"May I call you Miss Isola? You're twenty-six years old, right?" Shirou spoke first.

"Good."

"British?"

"Yes."

"Miss, would you mind writing down your mailing address on this piece of paper?"

She did as instructed.

Her handwriting was clear and neat, and her demeanor was elegant and graceful, clearly indicating that she had received a good education, just like a young lady from a noble family in the last century.

"Miss, do you have anything to say about last night's case?"

"I think there's nothing to say. I'm going to sleep."

"Miss, a murder has occurred on this train. Don't you feel saddened?"

The question was quite unexpected, and her intellectual eyes widened slightly.

I really don't understand what you mean.